


Won't You Please Be Nice?

by Tomocum



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Ending, Character Death, Depressing, Emetophilia, Fetish, Fingers in Mouth, Mouth Kink, Not Canon Compliant - Persona 5: The Royal, Other, POV Second Person, PWP without Porn, Reader is Persona 5 Protagonist, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28345698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomocum/pseuds/Tomocum
Summary: Akechi eats your puke before killing you.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	Won't You Please Be Nice?

**Author's Note:**

> **Please for the love of god read the tags.**
> 
> can you tell i started writing this before i played royal lmao.

Akechi’s fingers trailed across your jawline. The pads of his gloved fingers sliding across your flushed skin over and over again, as if he was trying to map out every curve and dip. Or maybe he was trying to burn your face into his memory.

After all, it seemed like you weren't going to be around much longer.

You were trapped in some room underground for your interrogation. You grit your teeth. Sae must have fucked up somehow. Something was wrong. If things went right, he’d be feeling up, or whatever this was, your double.

His version of you.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your lips. More and more pressure was applied against you. Soon, the inside of your bottom lip pushed against the edge of your incisors. Pain, if you could even call it that, and then the feeling of leather sliding against your teeth followed. His thumb swiped across what he could reach of the top row of your teeth before dipping further in. He smiled as he pushed the corner of your mouth upward as if he was returning your smile.

“Forgive me, I'm sure this is… strange,” he said with a small chuckle. He twisted his wrist, angling this thumb better so the tip could jam itself right into your already sore jaw, thanks to those bastards. A dull pain throbbed in the side of your face. “Open up.” He pushed harder and harder, eventually, the pain was enough to force your mouth to split open. He kept his thumb there. Your molars scratched against his thumb, the cuspids digging into the second knuckle, but he kept you nice and open for him. “That's better. I'm going to be honest, I’m very disappointed in how the police have treated you down here. I doubt they've fed you, considering how drugged up you seemed to be. It looks they couldn't keep their hands off of you.”

As Akechi spoke, his other hand joined in with the molestation of your mouth. Saliva pooled under your tongue. His fingers picked up where the other hand left off. He ran along your gum line before dragging along the tops of your bottom teeth. The way he's staring into your mouth makes you wonder if he's inspecting it for any cavities, chips, discoloration, or any imperfections. Regardless of what he may find, he seems satisfied.

“I suppose I'm no different than them right now, all things considered.” There's a soft laugh. “I'd like to think I am in some regard. I know you, I… Hmm, should I go on? I don't want to make this harder for myself…” His middle finger trails across your tongue as if mesmerized by the way you wriggle it. He captures the tip between his index and middle finger. Pressure builds in your tongue. Saliva pools and pools and pools. “I suppose there's no harm in it. I respect you, Joker. We spent time together, whether you realized it or not. The time I've spent with you is something I'll treasure for the rest of my life. I'll treasure these last moments as well.”

You roll your eyes. Saliva finally begins to dribble down both corners of your mouth. Though, it flows quicker from the corner he’s hooked his thumb into. It runs down your chin and neck in steady streams.

“I admire you so much. I've always wanted this from you, as embarrassing as that might be. You've made me feel so… many things. Things I never wanted to feel, things I didn't know I could feel…” He strokes your tongue or tries to but he winds up just pulling it. “There's a part of me that wishes that maybe… we could have been true friends. Perhaps… something… more. However, my goals are more important than fleeting desires. I really should just tear off the band-aid and take you out. I can't, I won't.

“I want to make this last, I want to know more about you, but, you can't just rush that. I know about your past, your school records, the persona you put on for your friends and the stories they tell, and your Persona, of course.”

He chuckles at that.

“That’s not enough though. I want to see past the surface and deep inside you. Perhaps I should have tried to see into your heart, I wonder what it could be? I wonder if there's a version of me in there…” he pauses. His russet eyes stare up at the ceiling and his lips press into a hard line. Is he considering that? “I really shouldn't dawdle anymore than I am… Ah well, hindsight is twenty-twenty. I'll just have to settle for physically looking inside.”

Your heart stops. What the fuck does that mean?! Is he going to split you open?

As if reading your mind, or realistically watching your pupils turn to pinpricks, he smiles sweetly at you. He pulls the one hand out of your mouth, though the one that's been acting as a makeshift gag more or less stays in place, and strokes your cheek. He smears spit across your face. He leans in, the feeling of his breath against the wetness sends shivers down your spine.

“Don't worry, Joker. I'd never do something as barbaric as that. Besides, I need this to look like a suicide.” His grin widens. “Excuse me.”

His thumb almost strokes your gums affectionately.

Then he jams his middle finger as far as he can go. Smooth leather slides against your soft palate, pushing the fleshy bit up as he goes for the back of your throat. Your eyes shoot open. Tears well up in your already blurry eyes. Your stomach lurches. He pulls back slightly, the tips of his gloved fingers millimeters away from your back wall. Your gags are soft and gentle to start. He ‘tsks’.

“Maybe I should have brought water for you. It might make things easier to come out, even if it’d dilute what I want…” He murmurs to himself.

Akechi’s fingers pull out of your throat only to push back in. You gag. You retch. Another swell of tears gushes from your eyes. Saliva sprays from your mouth as he fingers your overflowing mouth. He repeats the motion tenfold. His breathing gets heavier and heavier.

“Please don’t hold back for my sake.” His voice is nearly swallowed up by his desperate pants. Through your watery vision, you see that his face is painted red and his eyes are wide with desire. “Let loose for me, Joker.”

His fingers thrust into your throat. A twist of the wrist and his hand grinds against your tongue and he reaches downward as if he’s trying to fist your gullet and tear out anything he can find.

You retch.

Tears, spittle, and sweat drip down your face. Your stomach flips and jumps. His fingers swipe across your slick flesh, the feeling of smooth leather sends shivers down your spine in between the intense gags that make you feel as if your spine will tear itself out of your body. Your vision blurs.

Another thrust into your throat. Another retch that summons a rush of saliva, the thick and stringy kind. Another push. The tip of his middle finger brushes against something inside your throat. Your mind spins as you try to comprehend what it is. He fiddles with it, refusing to pull out and just staying knuckles deep into your twitching hole. 

And then, it happens.

You feel the wave of heat rise in your throat. Akechi huffs in delight. Your mind and throat feel as if it’s dissolving with every second that your bile lingers. Your retches become more and more desperate, violent even. 

Puke spurts out of your mouth. It’s hot and runny as trails of it leak from your stuffed mouth and down your chin and settle into your already ruined shirt. Bitter, sour heat stains your taste buds. Akechi fucking thrusts again into your mouth, as if he’s impatient for the next helping of vomit. He gets his wish. Your body forces out another rush of bile and vomit. 

You feel Akechi shudder. Even in your rattled state, the thought of your puke running down his arm and possibly slipping into his gloves comes to mind. If the interrogators bothered to feed you besides keeping you just hydrated enough, chunks of partially digested whatever would probably slip between his fingers, squishing against his skin and the expensive leather. 

Finally, he pulls out of your mouth. You can’t even gasp in relief as vomit falls from your heaving maw. How is there so much?! 

You almost don’t notice Akechi create a makeshift bowl in front of you to catch your vomit. Your mind is spinning as vomit continues to flow. Why is he doing this? What is he doing? Why didn’t this plan work and why do you have to go through this? The wet sounds of slop splattering onto Akechi’s hands drown out the desperate gasps and earth-shattering gags. It’s enough for you to pull yourself out of the despair you’re starting to spiral down into. 

Your blurry eyes flicker from the puddle of vomit that continues to grow and grow and grow until you give one last abortive gush of bile to Akechi’s hands. There is an expression of pure rapturous euphoria on his face. You swear his smile actually reaches his eyes for once in his life. There’s actual life there and all it took was for you to force out every last drop of your stomach.

Acid continues to burn in your throat. It’s like every breath you take in reopens those wounds in your throat. You don’t mind. You only care about the fact that Akechi isn’t fingerfucking your throat anymore. 

Then he brings the bowl of puke to his lips. It suddenly clicks. The realization washes over you and is quickly followed by a wave of revulsion. The fact that Akechi slurps it like it’s some gourmet ramen he was asked to go to for a TV spot makes it worse. He drinks and drinks and drinks and it doesn’t seem to be enough. He’s savoring it. He’s savoring the bitter and surely lukewarm concoction of stale water, bile, and whatever still lingered in your stomach from the last day or so. 

You gag. 

His garnet eyes light up at the sound and sight of your body jerking forward. It’s like telling a kid he could have more dessert and it’s the best day of his life. If this were literally any other time, the unadulterated joy he’s showing you might’ve been cute.

His hands dash in front of your heaving mouth.

You gag again. Tears once again flow from your puffy eyes, snot drips down your sweat-slicked face, acidic drool sprays into the air and into his makeshift bowl. Heat rolls and rises in your chest. It’s agonizing how it teases and edges the both of you. You can’t possibly give him anymore. You don’t want to anyway but your body involuntarily tries to anyway. 

This is disgusting. 

Akechi is disgusting.

Nothing comes out after a long and painful minute.

He sighs in disappointment, standing up straight and staring at his messy hands. Once immaculate leather is covered in brown-green slime that slides down his elegant fingers and wrists in messy trails. He brings his hands to his mouth, dragging his ruined tongue and lips across them as if they were melting popsicles on a sweltering summer day. His lips smack and he’s practically humming as he savors whatever traces of you are left on his hands and gloves. You lurch forward, gasping desperately for air. Each breath further irritating your raw, abused throat, and mouth. You can hear him suck on something. The thought of him sucking the puke out of the cuffs of his jacket crosses your mind and makes you shudder. 

“Well, it was fun to indulge for a bit, but, it’s about time for this case to be closed, don’t you think?” He asks, making you look up at him. He’s discarded his gloves, stuffing them somewhere, and is putting on a fresh new pair. You can hear the faint ‘squeak’ of new leather when he clenches his fist and wriggles his fingers even through the throbbing in your skull and eardrums. Your head spins. Your eyes, puffy and red with tears that do more to irritate than help, struggle to stay open. Everything is foggy, heavy, and bitter. 

Bitterness wells in your chest, physically and emotionally. Why did this have to happen? Why did any of this have to happen? Why couldn’t you just keep your head down back then? What good did it do you in the end? Yes, you’d live with the guilt of letting that man assault that girl, but you’d be alive. She and Shido get to live but you don’t. Everyone failed you; your parents, your friends, that woman, Sae Nijiima, and this joke of a justice system, these powers, and yourself. 

Akechi smiles at you as he brandishes the once-forgotten gun. His lips contort into a twisted sneer and there’s a light in those red-brown eyes. Despite how horrid that look is, you know that this is his true, genuine self, the one that he hid from you even as he debased himself and feasted on your waste. This rotten, disgusting pig is going to be the death of you. 

You don’t know what’s more pathetic; eating the vomit of a person you supposedly admire or dying at the hands of someone who did it. You can’t help but laugh as he presses the end of the silencer against your forehead.

“This is how your justice ends.”

You don’t even get to go out with a bang.


End file.
